


Once More, With Feeling

by erin_emily_writes



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Second Date, So fluffy I'm gonna die, Sorry Not Sorry, beware of cavities, drunk boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erin_emily_writes/pseuds/erin_emily_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first date with Cecil had been shitty, and Carlos knew it. Well, that wasn’t exactly true — it had nothing to do with Cecil or the dinner or even the buzzing shadow energy taking over the town. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that Carlos had been a shitty date, and he knew it. But this time, he swore he'd be better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More, With Feeling

His first date with Cecil had been shitty, and Carlos knew it. Well, that wasn’t exactly true — it had nothing to do with Cecil or the dinner or even the buzzing shadow energy taking over the town. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that Carlos had been a shitty date, and he knew it.

_‘I’ve been thinking, it’s part of being a scientist,’ I mean, really_ , Carlos had thought repeatedly as he tested the effects of the shadow energy and figured out how to stop it.

So Carlos had been quite surprised when Cecil had sounded enamored as he relived the evening on his radio show the next day. It took Carlos a few days, but eventually he worked up the courage to ask Cecil if he wanted to go on a second date.

“Oh, Carlos, I would _love_ to!” Cecil practically sang into the phone.

They agreed to meet for drinks after Cecil’s show a week after their first date. Cecil recommended a bar downtown that he said served the least toxic drinks, and said he’d meet Carlos at the lab and they could walk from there. Carlos hoped both that the drinks were actually no more harmful than normal alcohol, and that a few of them would help him be a little less awkward this time around.

Carlos had always felt awkward during the beginning stages of a relationship. The couple of girlfriends he’d had in high school had dumped him after a week or two of mostly silent phone conversations, clammy hand-holding and avoiding eye contact. Nothing changed when he realized and accepted a few years later that he was interested in men, though one-night stands outnumbered actual relationships throughout his higher education career. Only two of his relationships had lasted longer than a couple of months — Russell, the physicist who had loved Carlos’s sarcasm but hated the extra time he always spent at the lab, and Xavier, the artist who’d called Carlos his muse but ultimately chose his love of a high over loving a person. Carlos learned from these relationships that he would become less awkward as time went on, and he hoped Cecil could handle the weirdness for a little bit while he acclimated to the new relationship. Because even though it frightened him a little, he did care for the radio host.

When the night of the second date arrived, Carlos was finishing some tests on the tree sap he had collected the previous week when the doorbell to his lab buzzed promptly at 8:45. He quickly stored the smoking vials, turned off the equipment, and went to answer the door, stopping momentarily to check his hair in the reflection on the stainless steel refrigerator full of experiments. Satisfied, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hi, Cecil," Carlos said to the smiling radio host waiting outside in the chilly evening breeze.

"Hello, Carlos," Cecil replied as Carlos came outside and locked the door behind him. The pair started walking down the sidewalk — close, but not too close — past  Big Rico's and toward Night Vale's downtown square. "How were your tests?"

"Nothing too exciting to report," Carlos said. “I’m trying to identify a few unnatural chemicals I discovered, but the results won’t be ready for a few more days.”

Carlos couldn't deny it — he was nervous. This was only his second date with Cecil, and he was still coming to terms with his feelings about their… relationship? He wasn't sure what to call it, exactly. For now, though, he clung to the feeling of normalcy he experienced when he spent time with Cecil. For now, it didn't seem that strange to be discussing the presence of some strange new chemical within a particular bunch of trees in Mission Grove Park.

The pair strolled down the street, talking about Carlos’s experiments and the newest announcements from the city council and Sheriff’s Secret Police. Carlos was never unaware of the space between himself and Cecil, and when their hands accidentally brushed, he swore an actual spark jumped between the other man’s skin and his own.

Their discussion didn’t slow for the duration of their walk from the lab to the bar. One of the things Carlos admired about Cecil was his ability to keep a conversation flowing, even if his conversation partner wasn’t the most talkative person. They were in the middle of a discussion about how the library’s new summer reading program when they reached the bar. Carlos held the door open, letting the pumping music pour out into the street, and gestured for Cecil to go ahead. Cecil thanked him and found them a spot at the bar, which was relatively crowded for a Wednesday.

“What’s your poison?” Cecil asked, turning an inquisitive eye toward Carlos as they sat down.

“Oh, I’m not picky. I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Carlos replied, and regretted it almost immediately as he realized he should have ordered something safe rather than letting Cecil pick some strange and questionable Night Valean concoction.

“Bartender, can we get two Hooded Figures please?” Cecil called out, and Carlos laughed.

“Hooded Figures?” he said incredulously.

“I know, I know, it sounds silly. But they’re great, I promise.”

The bartender set the drinks on the bar in front of the couple. Cecil took his glass enthusiastically, but Carlos eyed the swirling black beverage suspiciously.

“Just try it, Carlos!” Cecil said.

How could Carlos resist those puppy-dog eyes? He picked up the glass and, with a wary look at Cecil, downed the drink in one long gulp.

“Impressive,” Cecil said, then laughed as Carlos shuddered. His laugh was loud and clear but somehow still reminded Carlos of pealing bells. The sound warmed Carlos’s face just as much as the alcohol. Cecil finished his drink in a few sips and ordered another round.

“You know, Carlos, even though I’ve known you for a year, I feel like I don’t know you very well,” Cecil said, resting his chin lightly on his hand.

“Well, um…” Carlos replied. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh, I don’t know… let’s start with something easy,” Cecil said. “What’s your greatest fear?”

Carlos was taken aback. “That’s, uh... that’s not really a simple question, Cecil.”

“Why not? Mine’s the idea that my existence means nothing and I am completely and utterly invaluable,” Cecil said, as if sharing one of his deepest secrets was nothing.

Carlos’s eyes widened.

“Oh,” he said. “Uh, well, I guess… I guess mine would probably have something to do with dying at the hands of some strange and unexplainable… Night Vale weirdness.”

“See how easy that was?” Cecil said as Carlos finished his second drink. “Your turn, ask me a question!”

Cecil’s eyes were alight with excitement, and even though Carlos wasn’t usually the type for sharing, he was starting to feel a buzz, so he spouted out the first question that came to mind.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“That is a great question, Carlos,” Cecil said, and Carlos thought he was joking, but Cecil actually took a few moments to think about it before he answered. “Probably malachite, or maybe a light razzmatazz.”

In that moment, he wanted to say his favorite color was the exact light violet of Cecil’s eyes, but instead he just blurted out “blue.”

“An excellent choice,” Cecil said. “Now, next question…”

And so it went for the next several rounds. Carlos, who switched to water after his fourth drink, learned that Cecil loved sesame chicken and loathed bad apocalypse movies. Carlos himself shared that he enjoyed photography and that, yes, he did find Cecil both scientifically and personally interesting.

It was after that last comment, and his seventh drink, that Cecil got a wild look in his eyes. Carlos had been wondering when he’d see something like that — after all, he and Cecil had been talking and drinking for about an hour, and Cecil had had quite a few drinks more than Carlos. Carlos had been thinking that Cecil's alcohol tolerance might be inherently higher than normal because he grew up in the strange desert town, but now he noticed Cecil's behavior change. His body relaxed, his eyes drooped and his face reddened a little. It was as if the alcohol was hitting him all at once.

“Come dance with me, Carlos,” Cecil said in a low hum, standing and holding out a hand.

“Um… I don’t…” Carlos began to decline. He was probably one of the worst dancers who ever lived and he knew it. But then he thought to himself, _no, don’t be a shitty date_. “Okay, I guess.”

He took Cecil’s hand and let himself be pulled away from the bar and to the middle of the room. A sultry Spanish song was playing through the speaker system. Cecil draped his arms around Carlos as they danced, clearly not caring how awkwardly Carlos was shuffling around. Cecil's eyes met Carlos's, and Carlos thought his heart might have literally stopped momentarily, though he did not look away.

He felt electric and terrified and alive, so alive.

At that moment, it didn’t matter to Carlos that there were only three other people in the bar dancing, and two of them were probably doing so involuntarily. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been on a real date in at least three years. It didn’t matter that time didn’t work, that he couldn’t explain the earthquakes, that he nearly died just a couple of weeks ago. The only things that mattered to Carlos were Cecil’s arms on his shoulders, Cecil’s waist under his hands, and the feeling that Cecil was somehow seeing straight into his soul.

The moment was broken by a song change — the next song began with a crashing of cymbals that brought the pair out of their reverie and continued with a melody too eerie for them to fall back into it. They went back to the bar where Cecil had yet another drink.

“Alright, I think that’s enough,” Carlos said, seeing the bartender eyeing Cecil. “How about we get you home, huh?”

Cecil gave Carlos a sly look.

“That’s pretty forward, don’t you think?” he said, and Carlos noticed that, though Cecil had most of the other traits of a rather drunk man, he did not slur his words in the least.

“Yep, maybe it is,” Carlos replied. He normally wouldn’t have said something like that, but he was undoubtedly feeling a nice buzz. “Let’s get your coat on and we can find out just how forward I am.”

Carlos’s heart thudded as Cecil stared into his eyes for a moment, then laughed and stood up, leaning against the bar. Carlos helped Cecil into his coat and pulled on his own. Cecil took a few steps and stumbled, just slightly. Carlos slid under Cecil’s left arm and held him up, left hand holding on to Cecil’s wrist and right arm around his waist.

They left the bar and headed back down the street toward Carlos’s apartment. Carlos was doing his best to be the “sober” one, but he knew he’d had at least one too many and was paying the price. As they walked, Cecil hummed, and Carlos tried to figure out what the best plan of action in this situation was.

 His first idea was to walk Cecil home, drop him off, and walk back to his own apartment. It seemed like a good plan until he realized he didn’t know where Cecil lived. He figured he could probably ask pretty much any citizen of Night Vale, but in his inebriated state he realized that he kind of wanted to be the “hero,” to show Cecil he was competent and worthy of at least some of the admiration Cecil had bestowed upon him since their first meeting over a year ago. It was clear then that he had only one choice — to go back to his own apartment above the lab and take care of Cecil there.

Just then, Cecil smoothly entwined his left hand with Carlos’s own. Carlos blushed, but he didn’t let go. Cecil kept humming and Carlos had to admit he was really enjoying the warmth of Cecil’s body against his. They walked together, occasionally stumbling over an uneven crack in the sidewalk, for what seemed like a strangely long period of time. Carlos chalked it up to the drinks this time rather than the usual Night Vale time weirdness.

When they turned the last corner and the lab came into view, Carlos breathed a sigh of relief. He was still enjoying Cecil’s closeness, but he was slightly taller than Carlos and was getting a little heavy, for the longer they walked, the more Cecil slumped.

“So, Cecil… do you wanna come upstairs for some coffee or something?” Carlos asked, trying to be smooth.

“I would love to!” Cecil said, standing up straighter but leaving his arm around Carlos’s shoulder.

Carlos led Cecil to the stairs just to the left of the door to the lab. For a moment, Carlos worried about Cecil’s ability to climb the stairs, but he did so with relative ease. When they reached the top, Carlos fished for his keys with his free hand and unlocked the door at the end of the short hallway.

“It’s so cozy!” Cecil exclaimed, dropping Carlos’s hand and looking around the small apartment. He surveyed the kitchen table and its four chairs, the old couch and mismatched coffee table and TV stand.

“It’s not much, I know,” Carlos said, wishing he’d thought to clean up a bit. There were bits of experiments and piles of research papers on both the kitchen and coffee tables. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cecil said, with a fond look that made Carlos blush, before peering, intrigued, at the experiments and skimming through some of the papers.

Carlos stood awkwardly by the kitchen, watching Cecil take a seat on the living room couch. It had been so long since he’d brought someone home that he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Would you like some tea or coffee or something?” he finally asked.

“Tea sounds great,” Cecil said offhandedly, trying to keep his eyes open to focus on the papers he was holding.

Carlos busied himself making tea for himself and Cecil. He hoped Cecil liked jasmine, because it was all he had in the cabinets — it was the most normal kind of tea he could find at the Ralph’s. He drummed his fingers on the countertop while the water boiled and the tea steeped, occasionally glancing over at Cecil looking through the reports.

When the tea was finally ready, Carlos cleaned up and turned to take it into the living room and took about three steps before he saw that Cecil had completely passed out on the couch, papers still clutched loosely in his left hand. He chuckled and put the tea down. He considered leaving Cecil to sleep on the couch, but decided it would be better to put him closer to the bathroom, just in case. He gently took the papers from Cecil’s hand, scooped him up and carried him into his bedroom. He put the sleeping radio host on the bed, untied and removed his shoes, and slipped his purple glasses off and placed them on the bedside table. Carlos grabbed a blanket from the chest at the foot of his bed and threw it over Cecil before grabbing another and taking it out to the living room.

Carlos took the tea he had made for himself over to the couch and slumped down onto the cushions. He took a few sips of the tea before the exhaustion from a long day at the lab combined with the evening’s ordeals hit him all at once. It was all he could do to remove his own glasses and fluff one of the pillows on the couch before falling asleep himself.

 

\------------------------

 

After a period of time that felt like minutes but in actuality took hours, Carlos was pulled from sleep by a pounding in his brain. He blinked and the bright morning sunlight made him feel like the backs of his eyes were on fire.

He groaned and threw an arm over his face. Carlos hated hangovers. He wished he’d eaten more than a couple slices of pizza and drank more water before going out the night before. He squeezed his eyelids shut and tried to go back to sleep, but the ache in his head and muscles and the fact that his mouth and throat felt like a desert kept him from drifting off again.

Reluctantly, and quite slowly, Carlos sat up. He stayed there, blinking and massaging his forehead until the room stopped spinning and his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He took a deep breath and stood up, steadying himself on the arm of the couch. He picked up the empty mug of tea from the night before and took it to the kitchen, flinching at the loud “clink” it made as he put it in the sink. He pulled a clean glass from a cabinet, filled it with water and drank almost half of it right away. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and reached for the bottle of off-brand pain pills on the counter, tossing three into his mouth and taking a few more gulps of water to wash them down.

His next notion was to shower and change his clothes, and that’s when he remembered that a certain radio host was currently in his bedroom. His stomach flipped, not unpleasantly, at the thought. He put down his glass and stepped quietly toward the bedroom. He peeked in and saw that the usually proper and well-kept man was now disheveled and lying spread-eagle across the bed. Cecil’s light snores broke the morning silence in the apartment.

Carlos smiled at his sleeping date. He snuck into the room, opened a drawer, pulled out a clean t-shirt and went into the bathroom to clean up a bit and change. He emerged a few minutes later and decided that even though eating didn’t sound particularly pleasant, he should probably make something anyway.

He went back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He stared at its contents for probably a little too long, finally removing a carton of eggs. He started cooking, thinking _I hope Cecil likes them scrambled_ , and realized that he was cooking breakfast for his date from the previous evening. His stomach flipped again and he tried to suppress another smile, but was unsuccessful.

He was nearly done with the eggs when Carlos heard a groan from the bedroom. He stopped and waited for a moment, then heard the sheets rustling, Cecil’s feet hit the ground, and the bathroom door close. Carlos turned back to the eggs so they wouldn’t get charred. He soon turned off the burner and pulled two plates from a cabinet next to the sink. He dug through the utensil drawer for a clean spatula and scooped a pile of eggs onto each plate.

He turned to put the plates on the kitchen table, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the table was still covered with papers. He left the plates on the counter and hurriedly pushed the papers into a pile and tossed them unceremoniously onto the coffee table with everything else. He moved the plates to the table, added silverware, and was just getting a glass for Cecil when Cecil himself walked out of the bedroom.

“Good morning,” Cecil said, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair. His feet were bare and his shirt was untucked and the top few buttons were undone.

“Morning,” was all Carlos said, even though he was thinking something like _this disheveled look is extremely attractive_. He filled Cecil’s glass with water and handed it to him. “I made breakfast,” he added.

“I noticed,” Cecil said. “Thank you very much, Carlos.”

Cecil sat down and began to eat while Carlos refilled his glass, then took the seat next to Cecil. The pair ate in silence, though it seemed to be a different silence for each of them. Cecil seemed perfectly content, but Carlos still felt awkward. In fact, these few moments of silence pretty much summed up the whole date, Carlos thought. He couldn’t believe he was sitting here, a grown man, feeling like a nervous teenager.

He wanted to break the silence and ask if Cecil had enjoyed their night out last night or if he thought the pseudo-sleepover was too forward, but all he managed was, “Are the eggs alright?”

“They’re lovely,” Cecil replied with a smile.

“Good, good,” Carlos said. “Are you feeling… okay?”

“I’m wonderful. No unfortunate side-effects from our exciting night out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

_Of course not_. He took a few more bites before he stammered out his next question. “So, uh… was it okay that I, you know, brought you here?”

Cecil looked up at Carlos, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Well, the short answer is yes,” he said.

“What’s the long answer?”

“It’s something like, ‘I think it was very admirable of you to take responsibility for my well-being after I’d had too many drinks and to open your home to me under abnormal circumstances.’”

Carlos blushed. Again. _Dammit_.

“You’re very cute when you do that,” Cecil added with a sly grin, eyes bright.

Carlos looked back at Cecil, and suddenly, almost involuntarily, he leaned in and kissed Cecil, just as he had on their first date. But this time, it was slower, longer… better. This time, all he cared about was feeling Cecil’s lips — they were soft, and strong — against his own. Cecil tentatively reached a hand up across Carlos’s jaw and into his curls, and Carlos thought he might melt. He wished to whatever creature or force that governed Night Vale to let this be one of those moments that lasts much longer than it should.

Unfortunately, Cecil’s phone rang after what felt like mere seconds. They broke apart, Cecil apologizing extravagantly before clearing his throat and answering.

“Hello? … Really? At the brownstone spire? … It’s probably nothing, but one can never be too sure. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Cecil hung up and looked guiltily up at Carlos.

“Possible breaking news,” he said with a shrug. “I’m very sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

Carlos nodded, a little disappointed but understanding nonetheless. He knew both he and Cecil had careers that often involved interruptions of everyday life.

“Of course,” he said. “Anything of scientific interest?”

“I don’t think so. Apparently some missing children have reappeared, but I’ll believe that when I see it. Well, maybe not even then.”

They both stood. Cecil went back to the bedroom to collect his shoes while Carlos took the breakfast dishes to the sink. Cecil reemerged, somehow looking professional again, like he hadn’t spent the night in a strange apartment after passing out drunk the night before. Carlos opened the door to let Cecil out.

“Thank you for a great evening and an even better morning,” Cecil said as he passed through the door and into the hall. “I had a marvelous time.”

“I had a great time, too,” Carlos said.

To Carlos’s surprise, Cecil then leaned in for another quick kiss, with which Carlos was only too happy to comply. Cecil gave him an endearing half-smile before striding down the hall toward the stairs.

Just before Cecil reached the end of the hall, Carlos remembered something Cecil had said the night before and made a split-second decision.

“Cecil,” he called out, and Cecil turned back with a raised eyebrow. “Um, I just… I don’t think your existence means nothing. It means something to me, at least.”

Carlos felt his face get warmer, but it was nothing in comparison to the rosy flush that crept across Cecil’s face and was carried down his arms by his glowing tattoos. Cecil didn’t even attempt to hide a smile so brilliant it was like the sun had come out in that hallway.

“Thank you, Carlos,” Cecil said in his knee-weakening radio voice. “That’s quite possibly the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Carlos mumbled some strange combination of “you’re welcome” and “no problem” while looking down at his shoes for a moment.

“Are you busy tonight?” Cecil asked.

Carlos’s gaze snapped back up. “Don’t think so,” he answered.

“Would you like to have dinner?”

Carlos’s stomach flipped. “Yeah, I would.”

Cecil smiled again. “Wonderful. I’ll call you.”

With a last lingering glance, Cecil turned the corner and descended the stairs, leaving Carlos alone and wishing the rest of the morning and afternoon would hurry up and be over with already.

It had been gradual, but Carlos couldn’t deny it anymore — in that instant, he knew he had fallen in love.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it all the way here, I guess maybe that means you like what you're reading (and for that I thank you). If that's the case, you might like my other works The Way Home, Not All Holidays Are Dangerous, and Say Nothing, which are all kind of in a collection with this one. They all can stand alone or go together like chapters out of a larger story. It's, like, you know, whatever.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading!


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